Page 106 of Free to Believe
I can barely breathe.
I’m surprised Dani hasn’t slipped on my blood as it begins pumping out of the hole in my heart. While I’m sure many are astounded a model of her caliber is walking in Em’s show, it’s the dress that holds me captive. Soon, she’s made her way back down the runway with her head held high.
The music trails off, and suddenly the models come out one followed by another. Em’s life journey begins walking down the runway again to an incredibly upbeat song. Everyone jumps to their feet applauding. Finally, Em and Dani come around the corner, and they raise their joined hands in victory. The room goes ballistic. The sound is almost deafening. There’s a small grin on Em’s face as she and Dani begin their walk down the runway. My breath catches when she stops practically in front of me, but it’s only to receive flowers from her brother. They hug fiercely. Em removes a single glorious red amaryllis from the bouquet and hands it to my cousin. Dani holds it aloft, to the crowd’s delight.
It isn’t until Em disappears backstage does anyone sit back down. I collapse back in my chair, lost about what to do next. I brace my hands on my knees as I bow my head.
“Mr. Madison?” I hear a familiar voice next to me. Warily, I turn my head. There’s a stunning blonde who’s been a few rows in front of me most of the night.
Slowly, I push to my feet. “Yes?”
“This is for you. I was asked to deliver it once the show was over.” She places an envelope in my hands, and I watch as she makes her way back down the stairs toward a few recognizable faces. Since she moves directly into Keene Marshall’s arms, I can only presume I just met Alison Freeman.
Looking down, I see an envelope with an amaryllis embossed on the back. Slowly, I unseal it. Pulling out a piece of card stock, I’m shocked to see Em’s handwriting.
I’ll be out to speak with you after I’m finished.
Flipping it over, I don’t see anything else written. Just one line, ten words, that could mean a new beginning or the end of everything.
Knowing I have nothing I can do but wait, I sink back into my seat and let the accolades about Em’s show flow over me.
I wonder if I’ll have the chance to tell her how damn proud of her I am.
65
Jake
It’s hours later when the media finishes talking to one another and interviewing guests. I’ve overheard nothing less than the highest praise for any of the dresses. According to the buzz around me, Em didn’t just make a mark on bridal fashion, she redefined it. Any number of camera spotlights have been shined on the members of the Freeman family. I’m surprised they’re not blind.
At one point, the entire clan headed backstage with a gaggle of photographers trailing at their heels. They emerged a half hour later laughing hysterically, holding champagne glasses.
It must be one hell of a celebration going on. A well-deserved one.
I don’t pull out my phone to pass the time. I don’t check my watch. I relive every moment from the first time I saw Em in Dani’s apartment, to our squabbles, to our first kiss. I remember the first time I touched her beautiful body, the first time her head lay on my heart. I scrub my hands down my face, remembering when she screamed Mugsy’s name.
And I remember her down on her knees as she begged for me to listen to her about the accident. Pleading with me to accept her—accept her love.
Like a fool I denounced them both as cursed.
What a fucking asshole I am.
The lights go dim, and suddenly a spotlight appears on the stage. Still wearing the sparking red dress she wore when she walked the runway earlier, Em steps from the wings with a bottle of champagne in her hand. She walks with an innate grace about a quarter of the way down the runway. “You have five minutes. They’re waiting on me next door at the party.”
Quickly making my way down the stairs to the runway, I realize we’re farther apart than I initially thought, both physically and emotionally. “Thank you for allowing me a chance to see you tonight.”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t do it for you.”
“Then why did you?” I’ve been wondering that since I received the call from the hotel concierge earlier today.
“I did it because you allowed your daughter to be a part of this, and she deserved her father here to recognize she was a part of something enormous this week. I’d like to think if she chooses to pursue a career in fashion, you’ll support her after this. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my presence is requested at the party next door.”
Emily turns to walk away, raising the bottle of Veuve Clicquot to her lips.
I’m going to lose her unless I say something. Anything. “Don’t go. Please. I beg you.” My voice cracks on the last words.
She stops in place, the bottle of champagne slowly dropping. Turning on one heel, she hisses, “You dare to say that to me? I was on my fucking knees for you. I cried enough for you in that moment and in the minutes in between to fill an ocean.”
“Then let me swim across it to get back to you.” I step toward her and die a little as she backs away.
